


Trust Me (1st Draft)

by Willow555



Series: Tricks of the Mind [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Description of self-harm, F/F, F/M, Hypnotism, Not Abandoned, Not Canon Compliant, Past Events, Slow To Update
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-14
Updated: 2017-01-09
Packaged: 2018-01-01 11:09:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1044127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Willow555/pseuds/Willow555
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Molly is having a hard time coping, and resorts to hurting herself. Sherlock, being Sherlock, notices and tries to help, but first he has to convince Molly that he can be trusted. </p><p>Set after the events at the swimming pool in "The Great Game"</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Two Years

**Author's Note:**

> (Notes have been edited from orignal...I got more confident lol). Basically this started as an idea for a fanfic, then became something I needed to do for myself, and now I'm just having a lot of fun and getting a ton of writing practise. Some things are researched, some things really aren't (how British people actually talk for instance. Sorry. It may come across as very 'Canadian who watches too much BBC'. Might get fixed later), and some things come out of personal experience. Either way I've tried to be as accurate as possible whenever it matters.
> 
> So, this is the first thing I've posted...please be nice lol. The original prompt I came up with for this story was thanks to rotaryphones story "Under Control", (http://archiveofourown.org/works/285347). It's much less angsty and much more porny and better than this, so you should all read it :) Most of the concepts are different but this idea came to me while reading that story to I wanted to make sure I gave credit where it was due. Also, seriously, it's a great story!
> 
>  
> 
> Finally, and most importantly: TRIGGER WARNING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
> 
> Like seriously, this story basically wholly revolves around self-harm. Please be aware of your triggers and proceed (or not) accordingly. I warned as graphic violence, but it's not actually that graphic, but I know how some people can be affected so I figure tag that just in case. This part is mostly based on my own experiences as a self-harmer in the past so it's as accurate as I could make it, but keep in mind it's just how I experienced it.

The hallway was silent. That was good. She was pretty sure her roommates wouldn't barge in on her, but they were pretty open and had a tendency to forget social conventions when they had been drinking. Not that Molly was really one for social conventions in the first place, but privacy was one she guarded very closely. In truth, how she and her roommates got along was a mystery even Sherlock couldn't unravel (though he had tried. Ever since Sherlock met John the five of them had become quite close. Even friends, as much as one could befriend Sherlock Holmes). Where Molly was quiet and reserved, Ada and Natalie were loud and outspoken in both words and actions. Although, Molly thought, being an openly lesbian couple in a lot of ways they had to be like that. But through living together Ada and Nat taught Molly to come out of her shell (it was they who had convinced her to finally ask Sherlock for coffee- which was liberating, even though it didn't turn out as she'd hoped) and Molly had taught them when to step back and reflect. They had a good arrangement. They'd be horrified if they found out what Molly was doing now- at least that's what Molly kept telling herself. 

She had been two years clean. Two years since she'd been off the meds and out of therapy. Two years since she'd started wearing short-sleeved tops again. And two years since she had let her emotions get the best of her. She didn't want to, but right now it was too much and she needed the noise in her head to stop. So she bit her nail and started scratching lines onto her arm. 

In spite of how she was feeling in the moment, she wasn't crazy. Molly was just a really anxious person by nature and when she was in middle school thing were getting way too intense. Some of her friends were depressed and started cutting. One night, when she was panicking over all the things that were going wrong in her 12-year-old life Molly found a pin (the closest thing she had to a blade) and scratched herself. She discovered that the pain helped her to focus on the present and not be constantly worried about the future so she kept going until she broke the skin. It gave her the release she needed. Over time Molly started to worry about the safety of using a pin; what if it wasn't clean? She didn't want to kill herself or make herself sick, she just needed the pain to give her something to focus on. That's when she realized that if she bit one of her nails to make the surface of it rougher it worked just as well as a pin. And she could always be sure her hands were clean. 

After years of being in and out of therapy, and through her medical training, Molly knew better now. There was no real 'safe' way to hurt yourself, and she now knew how to properly sterilize anything she'd use as a cutting instrument, but this was what she knew, so this was what she fell back on. She had other tricks. Molly could no longer count the number of coping strategies she had in her head, but at some point in the past couple weeks those had stopped working and her emotions were just getting more and more intense until she couldn't take it anymore. 

So she sat on her bed and felt two years of work slipping away with every swipe of her nail. 

When she was done Molly went to the bathroom and made sure her newly raw skin was cleaned and treated to prevent infection. Just as she was coming out Ada and Nat walked in the front door, holding hands and laughing. 

"Oh my gods," Nat said breathlessly. "We had so much fun Molly!"

"Absolutely," Ada agreed. "We really need to get you out with us one night."

"You'd love it at Bender's." Nat said, referencing the local gay bar. "We're not ready to hit the hay yet though so we're going to stay up and have some wine and a chat. Wanna join?"

"Thanks," Molly started, flashing the false smile she had perfected in high school. "but I think I'm just going to go to bed."

Ada looked at her worriedly. "Are you okay hun?"

"Fine. Just not feeling too great. You guys have fun though, don't worry about me." Molly knew that Ada and Nat were worried. They'd seen her starting to withdraw ever since the incident with Jim, but she was pretty sure she had them fooled as to how much she was really losing control. She'd gotten pretty good at faking 'normal'. It wasn't that Molly didn't trust her friends, she just didn't want to burden them with something so heavy. So she kept up the act and went into her bedroom. She really was tired, even though it was still pretty early for a Saturday. The release of so many emotions exhausted her and she fell asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow. 

As they watched Molly's retreating form Ada and Natalie shared a look. Molly was wrong about her roommates being fooled. Molly didn't know this, but both Ada and Nat had volunteered with troubled kids before they met Molly. Working with them taught the women to be very observant of people. They could almost give Sherlock a run for his money...almost. 

"What do we do?" asked Nat after she was sure enough time had passed for Molly to fall asleep.

"Exactly what we've been doing. We can't force her to tell us Nat. All we can do is let her know we're here and hope that she finds someone to trust."

Natalie sighed. "I know. But did you see the way she was guarding her arms? And we've both seen the scars. She relapsed."

"Probably." came the answer as Ada poured herself and her lover another glass of wine. "We just have to keep an eye on her. Make sure that if she falls we'll be there to be her safety net."

"Do you think we should tell Sherlock and John? Maybe they can help."

"Nu-uh! No way can we do that!" Ada said, kissing Nat to soften the sting of her words. "We can't do that to her. Then she'll never come to trust us. Or them. Or maybe anyone. Besides, you know Sherlock. He'll probably figure it out on his own. The only question will be what he decides to do with that information."

Nat shuddered at some of the possibilities. Sometimes Sherlock could be very cruel, even if unintentionally. "Let's hope something out of character."


	2. The Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock calls Molly into the lab so he can work on a new case and notices that Molly isn't acting like her usual self.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See chapter one for notes. Very, very important notes so if for some reason you haven't read chapter one at the very least please go and read the notes before you read this chapter.

"- okay Molly? Molly?"

"What, sorry? Oh, yes, I'm fine. Just tired." Molly smiled over at John

"Late night?" He asked, winking

Molly laughed quietly. "No, I wish. I just didn't get a lot of sleep last night."

As soon as the words left her mouth Molly regretted the lie- and not just because she didn't enjoy lying to her friend. She had come to terms with that a long time ago and sometimes she was a little scared by how easily the lies came off her lips. No, she mainly regretted it because if one has to lie around Sherlock Holmes the best way to pull it off is with the truth. He would see through a flat-out lie in a heartbeat. For a second Molly thought that she had gotten away with it, and Sherlock was too wrapped up in his work to have heard her. Then he looked up at her and she tried very hard not to cringe or look guilty. She didn't think she succeeded. 

""Molly, it's not like you to lie," He said, watching her closely. "In fact, judging by the physical signs alone- no bags under your eyes, not yawning in spite of the early hour, eyes fully open and alert, if not completely mentally present. Also, you're moving around a lot, and rather quickly. It helps that I know you but given the evidence I'd say you're the exact opposite of tired. Something's got you rather keyed up.

"Ah," He continued, picking up on some clue unseen by John. "Something you don't want me to figure out then. Interesting."

John looked at Molly, concerned. "Is everything okay Molly?"

"It's fine John," Molly said, quite a bit harsher than she had meant to. "God, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to snap. I'm just- Sherlock's right, I'm a bit stressed right now is all. But I'll be fine. I'm handling it."

"Alright, well if you need anything..." John said. 

At the same time, Sherlock stated, "Did you know your voice cracks when you lie?"

"Sherlock," John said admonished, glaring at his friend. 

"It's okay John, don't worry about it. So, what are you two working on today anyway?" Molly asked, desperate to change the subject. 

"Sherlock finally hassled DI Lestrade into giving him a cold case to look over so he doesn't get too bored and cause trouble. Quite frankly I have no idea what he's doing here today, this early in the morning. I just came along to make sure he can't skip out on helping me with the shopping- again."

"Dull," Sherlock said. 

"Well, that's just too bad. Unlike you, the rest of us need to eat on a regular basis and since you complain about all the foods I like you're coming to pick out your own."

Molly laughed as she went about tidying up the lab. She was mostly just here to let Sherlock in, but she could never just stand around when there was still work to do. Even if lab work wasn't exactly her area she was around enough to know how the people who worked there most liked things and she was happy to make their jobs a little bit easier. Especially today, when she desperately needed to keep her hands busy. Sherlock seemed to be absorbed in his experiment again, but Molly knew he was just trying to get her to lower her guard. She had seen him at his 'games' enough to know his methods. She also knew that if he was really trying he would have figured things out already, but Molly had never been the centre of his attentions- and today, for once, she didn't want to be. 

Molly's arm brushed against the counter as she reached for a stray beaker and she hissed. Her arms were still sore from the previous night and her skin was raw and sensitive. Even the sleeves of her shirt were irritating and slightly painful. John and Sherlock looked up at her. 

"What is it?" John asked. 

Molly sighed. "Oh, I'm just a klutz. Yesterday I tripped and sliced my arm on the corner of our glass table." She had her excuse ready from the moment she had run into her roommates. She hid as best she could, but she knew to have a plausible explanation ready, just in case. 

Sherlock 'hmm'd but John ignored him, asking, "Do you want me to take a look at it? Just to be safe?"

"No thanks. It's okay, I've had worse." And it was true. She just left out the fact that they were things she had done to herself. 

"Molly," Sherlock said, abandoning his experiment to watch her fully. "What's wrong?"

He sounded like he genuinely cared, and Molly just couldn't take it. All the times she had wished Sherlock would take a genuine interest in her and now the only reason that he was because she was falling apart and had become a puzzle. 

"You're the genius, figure it out!" she snapped, frustrated that he couldn't just drop it. Even though she knew that he'd be all the more determined now that she had challenged him. John and Sherlock were both staring at her. 

"I'm sorry," she whispered, her cheeks heating up. "Listen, I'm gonna go, just- just lock up whenever you're done, yeah?" Molly turned away, not waiting for a response. 

"Oh," Sherlock said quietly. "Oh, Molly, wait. Please."

Molly turned back, started by the change in Sherlock's voice. Very deliberately Sherlock looked down at Molly's arm, then back up to her face. At that moment, Molly realized that she had started unconsciously tracing the lines on her arm through her sleeve. And it was on the arm opposite the one she had already admitted to injuring. He knew. Molly's first thought was relief since John had been watching her instead of Sherlock, and hadn't picked up on his signal. Then she realized that Sherlock would probably just tell John anyway. She couldn't handle that. John was a good friend. She didn't want him to think her weak, or to start treating her as fragile. She felt her grip on her anxiety slipping and her breathing speed up as she began to panic. Sherlock was there between her and John in the space of a breath, leading her into a back room with a hand on her shoulder. When John started to follow, Sherlock shook his head. "Could you grab us some tea?" he asked, not waiting for an answer as he shut the door in his friend's face. 

Molly was too shocked and focused on trying to get herself back under control to do anything other than go where Sherlock was guiding. He left her by the door to grab a chair and brought it over to where she was standing. Seeing that she was very close to hyperventilating Sherlock pressed her shoulder, silently telling her to sit. When she was sitting he crouched in front of her, thumb gently rubbing her shoulder. 

"Just breathe Molly. It's okay, you're safe. Just breathe. Stay with me here and now, don't worry about later. Just be here," he said, slowly and quietly.

Molly nodded and tried her best to slow her breathing. Sherlock continued to softly reassure her and slowed his touch on her shoulder to subtly guide her to a further state of calm, and keep her present in the moment. 

After a minute or two Molly sighed deeply, "I'm okay." Sherlock removed his hand completely and walked over to get a chair for himself. 

"Judging from the pain in your arm before and your extreme emotional fluctuations this morning I'm assuming you started again last night." the detective said, as if he was telling her the facts of any other case, and not surmising her biggest secret.

Molly nodded, unsurprised that Sherlock knew this wasn't the first time, even though she had never told him otherwise. Molly didn't go out of her way to hide the few scars she had given herself in the past, but most people simply didn't notice them. In a way Molly was lucky. Her pale complexion meant that the scars faded to white lines on her skin, instead of remaining the angry red she had seen on others. Sherlock, however, wasn't most people and Molly had assumed long ago he would be able to pick up the subtly different shades and the linear pattern. 

"So, why are we in here?" Molly asked, wiping away unshed tears, wanting to talk about anything, to divert Sherlock's attention from being focused solely on her.

"I would have thought that was obvious. You don't like others seeing you emotional. And a panic attack would have raised more questions for John, although he isn't completely stupid and would have noticed something. You're more comfortable hiding though and feel it will be easier to save face this way. And here we can talk freely. I doubt I was wrong in thinking you'd like to keep this from him at the moment."

"You're never wrong," Molly half-laughed. Sherlock didn't bother to correct her. "I meant, why are you here? You solved your puzzle, why are you helping me?"

Sherlock's expression changed for an instant, almost looking hurt, then he was back to normal and Molly figured it must have been a trick of the light. 

"Believe it or not I do actually care about you. And Nat, and Ada. Just because I don't outwardly show it like John- Why else do you think I come over with him all the time. I do have other things to do," Sherlock said. 

"You're right. I knew that. I'm sorry. I just..." Molly trailed off. 

"You expected me to make a big deal about it like everyone else."

"Well, everyone who wasn't my therapist at any rate, yeah," Molly replied with a snort that was half humour, half disdain. 

"Molly, I might be able to help you. If you'll let me try. If you can trust me," Sherlock said quietly. Molly was surprised to hear uncertainty in his voice. Sherlock was many things, but uncertain was very rarely one of them. 

"I- I don't- how?" Molly stuttered. 

"Hypnosis," Sherlock replied simply. 

Before Molly could reply there was a knock at the door, "Are you two okay? I brought tea."

Sherlock looked at Molly and she nodded, so he opened the door and they faced John.


	3. Getting Worse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Molly takes things a step further.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back!! I'm also really, really, really sorry!! Writing just had to take a bit of a back burner for a while (yes, I know, a long while, I'm sorry!)
> 
> This is kind of an intermediate really short scene. It doesn't flow super well I know, but I've decided it's still important enough to include.

Molly looked at the scalpel. She didn’t know had what made her grab it, only that she couldn’t handle the emotions anymore and that she somehow knew just using her nails wasn’t going to work. She didn't try to make any sense of it. She couldn't anymore. It was all crazy and that's exactly what she was too. At least, that's what a little voice in the back of her mind kept telling her. 

She couldn’t say what particular moment triggered her. There were quite a few where she just didn’t have an outlet for her feelings, so she kept them bottled. Then bottled more on top of that. She kept going like that for the past two days until, that afternoon, she was getting some supplies from the back closet and, on instinct, she grabbed a sterile scalpel and put it in the pocket of her lab coat. 

She felt bad for technically ‘stealing’, but she would put an extra couple pounds in the petty cash box the next time she had a chance. 

“Now what are you going to do with this?” She asked her reflection. The harsh light in her bathroom cast the dark circles under her eyes in sharp relief. Molly knew exactly what she was going to do, she just couldn’t admit it- even to herself.


	4. Decision

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Molly decides whether or not to take Sherlock up on his offer. (Wow, okay that's a really crappy summary since we all know what happens but still- this is how they got there :p)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the very sporadic updating. Also, the POV is getting a bit screwy from here on out, but I'm not changing it, so just go with it? It'll probably get changed eventually, but for now it works. On the plus side I've been doing so much writing for other stuff that I'm pretty sure my writing is getting better. The explanation of hypnosis in this chapter is by no means definitive, and definitely not the only school of thought out there. This comes from my own research and understanding of the subject, but there are many different ideas of what it is and isn't and sometimes they contradict each other and trying to pin down a fully accurate definition is bloody complicated so this is the best I could get without taking up the whole damn chapter. Comments are welcome. Like really, really welcome. I'd love to know what people actually think. Constructive criticism is encouraged (yeah, contrary to the idea I gave in chapter 1, I was nervous okay? :p still am, but getting better <3). As long as you can say what you want without being a dick, I really want to know what y'all think.

_Okay. I'll consider it. But we need to talk first. Meet for coffee? - MH_

Molly sighed as her finger hovered over the send button. She couldn't believe she was even considering Sherlock's offer, let alone initiating further discussion about it. However, she was tired of fighting and things hadn't gotten any better in the two weeks since the lab. Just that morning she broke down after having to e-mail IT. She still felt that it was her fault for putting Jim in Sherlock's path, and the resulting danger Sherlock and John found themselves in. Molly looked down at her arm, noticing the new marks and the old. She closed her eyes and hit send. Anything had to be better than where she was now. 

The reply was virtually instant. 

_Can I come over? Say around 7? - SH_

Molly was surprised. Sherlock rarely remembered that people may have other plans, or gave them the option to say no to him in general. She was also touched that he suggested her flat, where she would be more comfortable, rather than in a public place or Baker Street. She wasn't sure that was his intention (with Sherlock you really never knew) but until it was proven otherwise that's what Molly wanted to think. 

_Sure. Nat and Ada will be home, but we can talk out on the balcony. It's supposed to be a nice night. - MH_

_As long as you're okay with that. - SH_

Again, the response was instant, making Molly wonder if he was that eager, or just that bored. She wasn't entirely sure she liked the idea of either possibility, but she couldn't turn back now. She also felt a glow at having her theory of Sherlock wanting her to be comfortable confirmed. He really could be very considerate when he wanted to be. 

_See you at 7 then. - MH_

Molly looked up at the clock. She had three hours. She decided she would make a nice sit-down meal for herself and her roommates. They hadn't done that in a while and Molly needed to keep her hands busy. 

After they had eaten and cleaned up the kitchen Molly left her two roommates to cuddle on the sitting room couch and walked out to the balcony to read and try to pass the last few minutes before Sherlock was supposed to arrive. She purposefully left her watch and phone in her room so that she wouldn't be anxiously checking the clock every thirty seconds. The book she was reading was actually really good and it wasn't long until she was fully absorbed in it. Which is why she didn't hear the doorbell, leaving Natalie to open the door and see Sherlock standing there. Alone. 

"Uh, hi," Nat said, raising and eyebrow. 

"Molly invited me over to discuss something. May I come in?" Sherlock asked, trying to be patient. 

"Not until you tell us what the bloody hell happened last Sunday when you called her into Bart's," Ada was fighting to keep her voice down as she got off the couch and went to stand beside Natalie. Together they effectively blocked the door. 

"Molly didn't tell you anything?"

"Obviously not," Ada said, glaring. 

"She was off. We could see something had happened but she wouldn't tell us what when we asked, and we didn't push. She did say that it wasn't your fault though," Nat looked pointedly at Ada.

"Well I highly doubt John did something. He has tact."

Sherlock sighed. "I deduced something about a situation Molly was in that she didn't want anybody to know about." He raised his eye to hold Ada's gaze. "I _tactfully_ let her know I had figured it out and she assumed I would tell John and she panicked. I reassured her and offered my assistance with the situation. That is what I'm here to discuss."

"We're sorry Sherlock. We didn't mean to attack you. Ada just...has a protective streak," Nat explained, as she and Ada stepped aside. 

"I noticed," Sherlock said dryly as he walked past them. 

"Do you really think you can help her? Sherlock, it's gotten bad." Ada confessed quietly. 

Sherlock turned around. "You know. Both of you?"

Ada and Natalie stared at the floor. 

"Ah. But you haven't said anything to her. So she doesn't know you know. Why?" Sherlock wasn't a robot. He understood (and felt) emotion, even if he rarely showed it. But there were some sentimental reactions he just couldn't fathom. This was one of them. 

"We didn't want to push her. If she's not ready to trust us we won't force her," Ada said. 

"Also, we worried that if we confronted her about it she would completely clam up and just get better at hiding it. At least this way we can keep an eye on things and step in if she's in real danger. She's fighting Sherlock. As long as she has that spirit we didn't want to put more pressure on her," Nat added. 

Sherlock looked from one woman to the other. "I'm not promising to not tell her. And I know she's fighting. If she wasn't she wouldn't have invited me over. I'm not pressuring her either, but I don't think you're giving her enough credit. And I won't lie if it comes up. But I also won't tell her until you're ready if it doesn't. Fair?"

Ada looked at her partner. "As much as it pains me to admit it, he may be right. And it doesn't appear we have much choice."

"He usually does. And it's more than we could have hoped for," Nat smiled, looking at Molly through the balcony door. "Good luck Sherlock. However you're going to try to help, I hope it works."

The two women retreated to their bedroom and Sherlock continued out onto the balcony. 

"So, you've decided to consider my offer?" 

Molly jumped and dropped her book. She had been so focused on not thinking about his arrival that she had missed it entirely. 

Sherlock let out a low chuckle, picking up her book and reading the title. "Sorry. I didn't mean to startle you. I didn't have you pegged as a reader of high fantasy. It must be a very good book."

Molly blushed, taking back the offered book. "It is." All the nerves that Molly had been avoiding came back all at once and she found herself at a loss for how to start what was sure to be an awkward conversation. 

"May I join you?" Sherlock prompted, gesturing to the chair beside Molly. 

"Oh, yes, of course, how rude of me. Would you like some tea? Have you eaten? We have leftovers from dinner if you're hungry." Molly was very obviously flustered and hovering, half rising out of her chair. 

"No, thank you. I'm fine. Molly, relax. You haven't agreed to anything yet, we're just having a conversation." Sherlock reassured her as he sat down.

"Right. Okay. So, hypnosis?" Molly made the word into a question, not entirely sure what she was asking, but trusting Sherlock to answer what was important. 

"It was a skill I picked up from someone I met on a case a few years back. It's not something I get to use very often, but some of the key concepts are very useful in my everyday work, and I make sure I practice enough that my skills stay sharp. You never know when it might come in handy. And I've been told I'm quite good," Sherlock said, watching Molly. 

"Hm. Interesting," Molly was at a loss for what to say next. After a minute of sitting in awkward silence Molly turned to Sherlock. "I have no idea how to start this conversation. I have no idea what I'm thinking or where to go with this, but I don't know who to turn to anymore, or what to do, and you offered to help so..."

Yes I did. And I plan to. I realize this is a difficult conversation to start for you, so let's start with the basics. What do you already know about hypnosis- or think you know?"

"Um, pretty much nothing. I considered it as something to look into to help me once a few years ago, but then decided against it pretty quick. The thought of somebody else being able to poke around in my head, er, wasn't comfortable." Molly spoke to her lap, wringing her hands. 

"So what makes it different now?"

"You," Molly met Sherlock's focused gaze for an instant, before looking back down. 

Sherlock blinked, but didn't press the point. "If you agree to do this the main thing you'll have to do is trust me. If you can do that then you just have to relax and let your subconscious mind do the work."

"I don't really understand." Molly admitted.

"Basically, hypnosis is getting your conscious mind to let go and allowing your subconscious mind to come more to the forefront. In that state you're more open to suggestions because the subconscious can surpass most of the barriers your conscious mind places on your thinking and behaviours. The big exception to this is that you can't be influenced to do anything against you moral compass. Well, there have been some experiments that make that debatable, but I wouldn't test that theory with you so it's a moot point."

The way Sherlock said 'with you' made Molly wonder who he was planning on testing that theory with. She wasn't a particularly religious person, but she sent up a quick prayer for that poor unfortunate’s sanity, just in case. 

"So, how do I make that switch?" 

"You don't. That's my job. All you'd have to do is sit back, relax, and let it happen," Sherlock explained. He was being very patient, even though Molly felt incredibly ignorant at that moment. Sherlock's patience and actually taking the time to explain things without being condescending to her were helping her to believe that maybe she actually could trust him. At least a little bit.

"And you really think it will help? That it can be that easy?" Molly was quiet, still avoiding her friend's gaze. 

"I think that it can't hurt. And I think that if you go into it with an open mind even just the relaxation aspect will help. And honestly, at this point, what other options do you have left?"

Molly knew he didn't ask the question to be malicious, but that didn't stop the hurt. She thought about all the other things she had tried. The therapies, the medications, the groups. All the times she had thought she'd finally beaten it, and then failed. Sherlock was right. She had no options left, and she was terrified of what would happen to her if this didn't work. So she would just have to make it work. It was that simple. 

Sherlock watched the multitude of emotions cross Molly's features: hurt, confusion, fear, and then steely determination. He could see her answer and smiled before Molly even opened her mouth. 

"Let's do it." she said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The case that Sherlock mentioned, where he learned hypnosis- I already have ideas for a prequel to this series. Just letting you know. It may or may not involve Patrick Jane ;)


	5. Relax

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Molly and Sherlock both discover some new things. Molly gets a chance to ease some tension.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! I'm sorry. This is probably going to be my mantra for this project but I do actually have an outline now, which is incredibly helpful! Borrowing this phrase from a comment left on the last chapter: "Bring on the hypnosis scene!" I hope y'all enjoy :3
> 
> Also, I realized that Molly has now gone through quite a bit of character development in the show so as of current cannon this is really, really (like more than the obvious) OOC, but this Molly is still from series 1 and will have her own character development for different reasons.

“So what did you tell John anyway?” The next day saw Molly sitting in 221B, still nervous, but with more than a little anxious anticipation mixed in. They had agreed before Sherlock left the night before to meet there with Sherlock’s assurance that John ‘would not be around to interfere.’

“I simply told him that you and I had an engagement and it would be more comfortable for all if he was out during that period. John is a people pleaser, I knew that would be enough. He told me to put a sock on the door if I feared he would come home too soon. I don’t understand why though.”

Molly giggled helplessly, just shaking her head when Sherlock looked at her. 

Sherlock not so patiently waited for Molly to regain control, muttering about ‘nonsensical rituals’. “He also told me to take good care of you. He’s worried you know.”

“I know,” Molly said, feeling guilty. “He texted me the day after Bart’s. He was really nice about it though. He said he understood if I didn’t want to tell him anything, but he just wanted me to know he was around if there was anything I needed. And he said he hoped you weren’t too much of a wanker about whatever it was,” Molly grinned at Sherlock.

“Hrm. Interesting term of endearment, that.”

“Oh Sherlock, he was teasing. We all know you can be a prat sometimes but we still love you- er, I mean, you know, platonically of course.” Molly looked down, blushing. 

“Of course,” Sherlock agreed with a smile. 

“Anyway,” Molly continued, pretending she didn’t notice his tone. “He was really sweet. I hate making him worry. Nat and Ada too, but what can I do? They don’t need to know I’m a basket case.”

Sherlock waited until Molly looked up, and held her gaze. “We don’t think you’re a basket case Molly.”

Molly’s whole body snapped to attention. “We?”

Sherlock winced at his slip. “I was talking to Ada and Natalie before you and I talked at your flat last night. Now, don’t look at me like that. I didn’t tell them. They’re two of the few people around who actually observe.”

“So they already knew? For how long?”

“They didn’t specify, but I’m guessing from the first. They used to volunteer with troubled teens. It’s something they would know how to spot,” Sherlock deduced easily, as if that were information everyone should already know, in spite of Ada and Nat never revealing it.

Molly took some deep breaths, trying to process the new information. “Why didn’t they say anything?” She whispered. 

“They didn’t want to pressure you. They were trying to be there for you and waiting for you to come to trust them with it on your own.” Sherlock sat down beside Molly on the couch. “They believe that if they are better friends you’ll be able to trust them enough to come to them for help. They don’t understand that the fear and shame of opening up is so much greater than the suffering you’re currently going through. Suffering silently is familiar- telling people isn’t. And when you have it hasn’t been a good experience.”

Molly looked at Sherlock, realizing for the first time how much he really understood. Molly knew about the drugs, of course, but Sherlock had never seemed to struggle and denied he had an addiction. She could now see that that really was all an act and he had been stuck in the same cycle she currently found herself in.

“So what do I do?” She asked quietly.

“You let yourself be helped. And believe that you’re worthy of it.”

Molly opened her mouth to deny thinking herself unworthy, but found that she couldn’t honestly say that wasn’t how she felt. 

“It’s not entirely that,” Molly started to explain after a moment. “It’s more that so many people have put so much time and effort into trying to help me and then I mess up and all that effort is wasted. I just…stopped seeing the point.”

Sherlock listened intently and didn’t seem surprised by what Molly was saying. Molly got the distinct impression that he already knew what she was going to say and was just letting her get it out because she needed to own up to it. Sherlock was seeing through her on an entirely new level, and it was a little disconcerting. 

“But you’re here now,” Sherlock said, after it was clear Molly was finished. “You don’t mind wasting my time?”

Molly laughed, grateful Sherlock was able to make a joke and ease the tense moment. “You signed up for it. And…”

“And?” Sherlock prompted when Molly hesitated. 

“And are we going to get started or what?” Molly was close, but she wasn’t quite ready to admit that she really believed and trusted in Sherlock enough that maybe this would work. That maybe, this time would really be the last. Saying it out loud just felt too much like a jinx. 

Sherlock gave Molly a look that clearly said ‘I know that’s not what you were going to say and we will pick up this conversation later’- but otherwise let the comment slide for the moment. 

“First, I need to ask you something: are you taking care of your injuries? I know that you wouldn’t let John take a look, but do you need me to? Obviously, I’m not a doctor, but I’ve studied the human body extensively. Of course, generally my studies are applied to those no longer alive, but the knowledge is the same. I could help if you wanted.”

Molly went rigid. Sherlock was worried for a moment that she was about to have a seizure as Molly’s entire body tensed up and she wrapped her arms protectively around her chest, making sure her forearms were held tight into her body and away from Sherlock. Molly didn’t know what she was expecting Sherlock to do or say when she entered his flat that day, but it certainly wasn’t that. 

“NO!” Molly half shrieked, sliding on the couch cushions to put space between her and Sherlock. Startling herself with her outburst Molly took a deep breath and continued. “I mean, it’s okay. Thank you, but it’s fine. I can take care of them myself. It’s not that bad.” The last statement almost a whisper, and this time Molly could feel her voice crack when she lied. 

“You’ve never actually shown anyone have you?” To Molly’s astonishment, Sherlock actually sounded surprised. 

“Of course not Sherlock! I’ve never actually even told anyone! People just figure it out. I simply don’t deny it when I get caught- usually. Do you have any idea how many people knew? Or guessed? And just didn’t say anything. They were just too scared to say the words. I have no illusions that I’m that great of an actress, and in the end, I’m the biggest coward of them all.”

Molly slumped forward in her seat, her rigid posture becoming too much effort to uphold. Her arms remained tight to her chest as she stared at her knees, feeling exhausted. She wasn’t lying when she said she usually ran away from uncomfortable truths, particularly when she was scared. She had made the decision to be completely honest when she had decided to take Sherlock up on his offer. She didn’t realize how taxing that would actually be. She thought that it would be easier to not have to lie all the time, but she had grown so comfortable faking happy that trying to change that was going to be torturous. She knew the pain was worth it, but the truly long road ahead of her was suddenly starkly clear in her mind. 

“You’re not starting back at the beginning Molly,” Sherlock cut through Molly’s excuses and pretense and went straight to the heart of her worst fears. “Everything you’ve built on before is still there, and still helping you. You just need a bit of a boost now.”

“For now. But what about the next time?” Molly asked quietly, as she thought back to the scalpel she had now hidden under her mattress. “I’m scared Sherlock. Scared and tired.”

“Well,” Sherlock began, clapping his hands together as he did whenever he was thinking. “That’s something we can work with. Are you ready?” he asked, getting up off the couch and turning to the chair opposite.

“What? Now? Sherlock, I-I’m not sure I’m in the right headspace for this anymore.”

“Which is exactly why you should.” Sherlock stated simply. “Just let me guide you through a short relaxation. It won’t be a real hypnosis session, but I think now it might be better to ease you in slowly than to jump right in anyway.”

“Oh gods. I’m sorry Sherlock. If I’m too crazy for you to feel comfortable doing this I understand. Just tell me. It’s okay. I’ll go.” 

Molly started to get up but before she could get fully upright Sherlock was out of his own seat and standing in front of her, blocking her way. 

“Molly Hooper, sit down,” Sherlock’s tone clearly stated he didn’t want any argument. Molly sat back on the couch, confused. She was certain Sherlock wouldn’t really want to help anymore once he realized that it would be so much work for him. She also pushed down a small rush of pleasure from his sudden, dominant attitude. 

“ _Get a grip Hooper. This is SO not the time. And it will never happen anyway._ ” Molly thought to herself. 

Sherlock remained standing for a moment longer, making sure Molly wasn’t going to try to run away again. Then he let his features soften and crouched in front of her, his hands resting on her knees. 

“I really don’t like repeating myself Molly, so I’m going to say this to you once, and I want you to believe it: You are not crazy. You’ve chosen a poor strategy, that is true, but it doesn’t make you crazy. You’re deserving of help. You need to believe that if you really want this to work.” Sherlock paused. “Do you really want this to work? I offered to help, but I understand if you’re not actually ready yet. Know that I’ll be here no matter what you decide, but if it’s not yet time this will be pointless.” 

Molly considered Sherlock’s words for a minute, letting them fully sink in. Was she ready? She knew he was right, there were many times people tried to ‘help’ her and it was just about making her stop so that they could be more comfortable. Sherlock waited patiently, not even fidgeting while Molly thought about what it would mean to finally let this go. To finally be able to say that she was no longer a self-harmer. It meant a lot of freedom, but also a lot of responsibility. She really would have to put in the work. Could she do it? Did she want to? 

Molly looked at her arms, as if she could see the old scars and the fresh marks through her shirt sleeves. Yes, she was ready. She was so used to doing everything on her own, but now she no longer had to. That was going to be hard to get used to she knew, but she also knew that it would make all the difference. 

“Yes Sherlock. I actually think I am ready.” 

Her friend smiled warmly as he got to his feet. “Good,” he began, his voice changing. It was suddenly a bit quieter, and a bit deeper. Molly had to focus more to make sure that she could hear him properly. 

Molly had a flash of fantasy of that voice whispering to her in the dark as Sherlock walked back to his chair. She imagined sweet nothings and dark desires being told to her. Molly started to blush and forced herself back to the present moment to focus on Sherlock's instructions. 

Sherlock decided not to comment on the sudden flush in Molly face when he changed his voice, but did file away the information for review at a later time. "Pick a spot in the room," he instructed, continuing in the same tone. "Somewhere at a comfortable eye level. No need to strain yourself. It doesn't have to be anything in particular, just something that can draw your attention and that you can focus on for a few moments." 

Molly cast her eyes around, both looking for something that would fulfill Sherlock's request and buying herself time to calm her nerves. She couldn't believe she was really doing this. Her gaze settled on the bright yellow face on 221B's wallpaper. She allowed herself a small smile. " _So Sherlock,_ " she thought. 

"Good," Sherlock said again, seeing that her movements had settled. He briefly followed the direction of her eyes and smirked when he realized what she had picked. He should have guessed. Turing his full attention back to the woman in front of him he continued, "Now, I just want you to keep looking there and listen to me. That's your only task right now. As I'm speaking your eyes might start to grow tired, and if they do it's okay for you to close them. Or you can leave them open. It's completely up to you, open or closed, just choose whatever makes you the most comfortable." 

Sherlock paused for a moment before continuing. Molly was still very tense, but with each word he said he could see her starting to let herself relax just a bit. "Now," he resumed, "I want you to focus on your breathing. Feel your breaths starting to deepen and slow. Think about the air filling your lungs from bottom to top and notice how relaxing it can be to just breathe." 

Molly felt a little silly just sitting there with Sherlock watching her, but as Sherlock continued she surprised herself by actually starting to relax. It was nice to just sit there. To be in that moment and not have to worry about what was being thought of her, or having to hold it together. Sherlock was talking about how heavy her body must be feeling now, and she noticed that he was right. She was just so relaxed she felt as if she could sink into the chair. Sherlock was telling her to try to lift her arm, but that she would find it much too heavy to move. Molly smiled to herself a bit when she realized that he was right again. She shouldn’t have been surprised, Sherlock was always right. She knew that if she really tried she could move, of course, but she was too relaxed and comfortable to put in the effort. As she drifted between simply enjoying the moment and listening to Sherlock, Molly allowed her eyes to close and followed Sherlock's direction of her attention to all her different muscle groups, relaxing each in turn. 

Sherlock watched Molly as all the tension she had been carrying over the days (and really weeks if he was being honest- ever since she learned 'Jim's true identity as Moriarty. The spider. Sherlock wanted to find him and do things that John and Lestrade would doubtless disapprove of) left her body and she grew calm and relaxed. 

Once they had worked through all of Molly's muscle groups Sherlock paused and was pleased to see that she looked much calmer. He hoped that it would give her some lasting sense of peace, at least for now. 

When he noticed the small signs that told him Molly was starting to get restless from his silence he decided it was time to allow her to come back to herself. "Now that your body has released its tension you notice that your mind has relaxed as well. You can drift here, in this relaxed state, for as long as you like. No need to rush. When you feel ready to come back to the present you can start to feel the energy returning slowly to your body, flowing through you like warmth from a mug of hot cocoa. Just allow your awareness of the room to return at whatever pace feels right for you in this moment and when you're ready you can open your eyes again, feeling calm and refreshed." 

Molly followed Sherlock's instructions, allowing her mind to drift for a few more blessed moments before returning to reality. When she blinked open her eyes she felt like she was waking from a refreshing catnap. She saw Sherlock sitting across from her drinking a steaming mug of tea. She could only assume that he had made it while she drifted and was surprised she hadn't heard him moving about. Sitting up and stretching a bit Molly noticed a second mug on the table beside her. Smiling gratefully at Sherlock she picked up her own steaming mug and sipped quietly. 

Sherlock simply drank his tea and watched her, allowing her to process and watching for any signs of discomfort. 

"That was nice," Molly said after a time, needing to break the silence. She wasn't exactly uncomfortable under Sherlock's gaze, not this time, but it was something that would take some getting used to (assuming Sherlock actually wanted to continue this- whatever this was exactly, Molly still wasn't sure on that part). 

"I'm glad that you thought so. Nice enough to repeat in the near future?" Sherlock asked, his voice back to its normal timbre- a fact which Molly was both relieved and disappointed to realize. 

"How near exactly?" She asked in return. Her answer would likely be 'yes' no matter what Sherlock said, because it really was a nice experience on multiple levels, but she also would want some time to figure out exactly what they were doing, and she needed some time to work through her thoughts on the day. 

Sherlock looked at her ( _more like looked **into** her,_ Molly thought) for a moment before responding. "A few days at least. You need time to think and I need to brush up on some things." 

Molly looked at Sherlock questioningly. 

"Nothing that you need to worry about, and there’s nothing you've done wrong, or surprised me with." Sherlock said in answer. "And that's all I'm telling you. Anything else will ruin the experiment," he added with a small smirk. 

Molly shook her head and smiled. If you had asked her two weeks ago, she would have been very concerned at the thought of being at the centre of any of Sherlock's 'experiments', but over the past few days she had seen a side to Sherlock that very few people knew existed. And that usually he would prefer nobody knew about at all. Molly was happy that he felt he could trust her enough to let that show more openly. She wondered if maybe someday she could trust him in the same way. Molly sighed and finished her tea, then reached across the space between their seats to give Sherlock's hand a squeeze. "Thank you." 

Surprising Molly for not the first time that day, Sherlock kept her hand in his as he rose, helped her to her own feet and walked her to the door. "Until next time." He said, returning her squeeze with his own. 

_***_

Molly was very deep in thought on her way home, but not in a bad way for once. She was simply reviewing all she had discovered that day and was able to avoid putting any emotion into it yet. She was grateful to get to her flat and see that Nat and Ada were out. She wasn't quite ready to face her roommates yet- especially now that she knew that they knew. That was definitely a conversation that would need to be had, but she was glad she didn't have to have it that night. Molly wanted to continue to avoid the swirling thoughts she could feel just below the surface of her consciousness, at least for a little while longer, so she changed into her nightclothes and curled up under her blanket with a book. An hour later Ada and Nat came home and peeked in Molly's open door to find her fast asleep with her book on her chest. It was the first time in days she had slept with the blade under her mattress lying forgotten. 

**Author's Note:**

> P.S. I tend to write things out first on paper, so what I think is a long-ish chapter actually ends up being really short once I type it up, so I apologize for my chapter lengths in advance.


End file.
